


Ruffled Feathers

by Rose_of_Pollux



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7966699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Napoleon and Illya find that trying to get a microdot from a parrot is more difficult than it sounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ruffled Feathers

Illya pulled into the parking space of the combination pet shelter and kennel. His partner Napoleon was with him, as usual, as they headed inside. The Russian paused as they passed some cats and kittens who were lounging in the lobby, all of which began to mew and purr as he passed them.

“Don’t even think about it,” Napoleon said. “You even want to think about getting one after what happened when Mrs. Thames caught us with Baba Yaga in our apartment?”

“She would not have found out about Baba Yaga if you hadn’t screamed and woken Mrs. Thames at two in the morning,” Illya countered.

“And what would you have done if you found a dead mouse on your pillow?”

“Baba Yaga was giving you a present!”

“I’m so moved,” Napoleon said. “Anyway, it’s not as though you can’t see Baba Yaga; she’s made herself at home in the office.”

“Maybe she could use some friends…”

“Illya… We’re here on a mission, remember?”

The Russian sighed and glanced back at the cats.

“Next time,” he murmured to them, and he followed Napoleon to the receptionist.

“Ah, hello,” Napoleon said. “Um, we’re here to pick up a parrot that our friend left here while she was on vacation. She’s going to be flying in late and wants us to have the bird ready when she gets here.”

“Oh, sure,” the receptionist said. “Name?”

“Featherstone,” Napoleon said. And then he blinked. “…Oh, you mean our friend’s name? April Dancer. The bird’s name is Featherstone.”

“Oh… Yes, I see her name here; one moment!”

The receptionist left and returned with a large Camelot macaw balanced on her arm wearing a special harness; the bird was happily preening his orange and yellow feathers. Featherstone then noticed Napoleon and flew to his shoulder immediately, proceeding to preen his hair, as well.

“Featherstone is still rather taken with you, I see,” Illya mused, signing for the bird.

“Ah, yes…” Napoleon said, taking ahold of the other end of the harness to keep the parrot from flying off—not that he had needed to, as the bird was focused completely on preening his hair.

The duo and the parrot soon headed back to the car.

“Should we take the microdot from him now?” Illya asked.

“Yeah, let’s--” Napoleon’s hand froze as he attempted to reach the microdot that was stuck to the parrot’s leg band--and then as Featherstone squawked and made a move to try to nip at his hand. “…On second thoughts, let’s get him to headquarters first.”

Within the hour, Featherstone was resting on Napoleon’s desk as Baba Yaga watched from Illya’s desk carefully, alert and discomfited by the fact that there was a bird bigger than she was.

“Come on, Featherstone, we need that microdot,” Napoleon said, trying to coax the bird. He flinched as another attempt to get the microdot ended with him narrowly averting a bite.

The bird looked him directly in the eyes and said, “Pecan.”

“…I think the microdot is being held for ransom, Napoleon,” Illya intoned. “You see? Baba Yaga gives you gifts; Featherstone is greedy.”

“Well you could just try and hold him while I take the microdot off his leg band,” the American offered.

“Napoleon, I have done many foolish things in my career, but I draw the line at trying to restrain a parrot with an agenda.”

“Pecan,” Featherstone quipped again.

“Will you be quiet?” Napoleon sighed. “I’ll get you your pecans; just let me get that microdot first!”

“Pecan, Blockhead!”

Napoleon gave the parrot a long stare before turning to Illya, who suddenly looked flustered.

“Tell me, _Tovarisch,_ ” he said. “Have you been spending time with Featherstone as of recently?”

“I fail to see the relevance in that,” Illya said, going slightly pink. “And I do believe it is time for Baba Yaga’s supper; I must feed her. Good luck with that microdot.”

Illya picked up the cat and darted out the door of their office, leaving Napoleon with the stubborn parrot.

“Pecan, Blockhead!”

“Alright, alright; I know when I’m beaten,” Napoleon sighed, getting the shelled pecans from his desk drawer.

He managed to get the microdot after sufficient payment of pecans, and with a while to idle, the American proceeded to do his best to expand the bird’s vocabulary a bit further. After all, two could play at _this_ game… And it would be interesting to see Illya’s reaction to his new nickname of “Blond Wonderboy.”


End file.
